6/21-27/2013 Puerto Marquez
Several days in Puerto Marquez, a little village, a beautiful bay, exclusive condos on the hillsides. Waiting for hurricane Cosme to leave. Lazy days, sleeping, reading, odd jobs. Going ashore in the dingy to check the internet. I crashed in the surf almost every time, and there was not even any surf. Diving off the boat into the water several times a day to cool off. Waiting, waiting waiting for the weather to clear.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
June 19-21, 2013, Acapulco
Anchored in Puerto Marquez. This is a beautiful harbor, fitting all the pictures of sailing in a tropical paradise. Deep water surrounded by tall cliffs. Thick forests with colorful blossoms on the trees. The sound of birds. Only a few other boats. The water is wonderfully warm and we dive off the boat for a swim several times a day. The nasty weather from the night before seems to have blown itself out. If it weren’t for the threat of hurricanes I could happily stay here for a couple of weeks. Unfortunately it is not to be. We give ourselves a day to sleep and straighten up the mess of discarded clothes and jumbled cruising guides and charts and another day to have a beer on the beach, investigate the town and check email and then we are off.
We head across the bay to Acapulco itself. This is truly an amazing natural harbor. A narrow entrance between rocky cliffs opens into a wide deep harbor with green hills running down into the bay. There is a line of hotels along the beach and houses climb the hillsides. It reminds me a lot of San Francisco. I keep imaging Spanish galleons sailing in and dropping anchor after the long trip around the horn and up the coast. Our goal is the fuel dock at the Acapulco yacht club. Perhaps because it is a yacht club and not a marina, communication is less successful than usual but eventually we find the dock and tie up. Then, before we are allowed to buy gas, we have to check in with the office and get a guest pass. Tying up is interesting. There are no cleats on the docks. Instead the dock lines are attached to the dock with chains and tossed to the boat. They are not very long and very frayed on the ends and there are only 3, 2 for the bow and one at the stern. Actually, most of the boats are in stern first, so that gives them 2 for the stern. They tie the bow to the dock on one side and to the boat next to them on the other side.
As soon as we are tied up we grab a quick sandwich and head ashore to the pool. This is the life. We settle in lounge chairs and are provided with cushions, an umbrella, towels, menus. There are not many people here but everyone is very nice and eager to know where we are from. Upstairs in the main building we discover hot showers and a sauna complete with large fluffy towels. Just past the main gate there is a very complete ships chandlery. There is a subtle but noticeable difference between being in a marina and being at a yacht club. As much as we tout the vagabond life, we also love the life of luxury.
In the evening we walk across town to see the famous cliff divers. There is an official viewing station right next to the cliff but most of the locals are spread out along the cliff road. There are hundreds of people out enjoying the evening. Street vendors work the crowd. Families pose for photos. Lovers snuggle. Performances are at 7:30, 8:30, 9:30 and 10:30. We watch the 8:30 show from the road and then, since this is a once in a lifetime trip for us, we pay our money and follow the steps down the cliff for the 9:30 show. We are just a few yards from the pool that the divers will enter. It is an amazingly small area to hit, surrounded by rocks on all sides. The water swirls and rushes in and out. 4 or 5 young boys in swimsuits push through the crowd and climb down the cliff into the water and start jumping and diving and playing in the water. Then the divers themselves appear. They come down the steps through the crowd, over the railing and into the water. It is dark now and spotlights come on, illuminating the cliffside and the pool of water.They are so young, teenagers, with very strong, well muscled bodies. Soon we seem them on the other side of the pool, climbing up out of the water and onto the sheer face of the cliff. Suddenly they are swarming right up the cliff like monkeys. Several of the very young ones are right with them. Then the first one dives off the face of the cliff into the swirling water below. One by one, they climb higher and higher and dive down, sometimes in pairs, mostly on their own. Finally there is only one left, at the very top. There is a small shrine there and we can see him turn and say a prayer. There is a long period of anticipation while he works the crowd and then he is off is a beautiful swan dive and the performance is over.
Just as the last dive is complete, it starts to rain. Gently at first but by the time we get back up to the top and into a taxi it is pouring. We left the hatches open on the boat and by the time we walk from the gate to the boat we are soaked, the rug is soaked and worst of all, the bed is soaked and rain is dribbling in through the portholes. Luckily we had put the computers away before we left. We close the hatches and portholes, which now makes it really hot. One person can sleep on the dry half of the bed, while the other half is layered with towels. I get to sleep on the settee. It pours for most of the night but by the morning it is clear and beautiful.
When we emerge we discover and unforeseen problem. The cement docks do not float and the tide has dropped so low that our rail is almost under the dock and the side has been dreadfully scrapped. Luckily, we have passed the low and it is on its way back up. Beautiful as it is here, we cannot afford another night. We treat ourselves to a cappuccino at the restaurant, check the weather and check out with the port captain. The weather system offshore is gaining strength although it is heading northwest so we are going to go back across the bay to Puerto Marques and anchor until it looks safe to head north
Anchored in Puerto Marquez. This is a beautiful harbor, fitting all the pictures of sailing in a tropical paradise. Deep water surrounded by tall cliffs. Thick forests with colorful blossoms on the trees. The sound of birds. Only a few other boats. The water is wonderfully warm and we dive off the boat for a swim several times a day. The nasty weather from the night before seems to have blown itself out. If it weren’t for the threat of hurricanes I could happily stay here for a couple of weeks. Unfortunately it is not to be. We give ourselves a day to sleep and straighten up the mess of discarded clothes and jumbled cruising guides and charts and another day to have a beer on the beach, investigate the town and check email and then we are off.
We head across the bay to Acapulco itself. This is truly an amazing natural harbor. A narrow entrance between rocky cliffs opens into a wide deep harbor with green hills running down into the bay. There is a line of hotels along the beach and houses climb the hillsides. It reminds me a lot of San Francisco. I keep imaging Spanish galleons sailing in and dropping anchor after the long trip around the horn and up the coast. Our goal is the fuel dock at the Acapulco yacht club. Perhaps because it is a yacht club and not a marina, communication is less successful than usual but eventually we find the dock and tie up. Then, before we are allowed to buy gas, we have to check in with the office and get a guest pass. Tying up is interesting. There are no cleats on the docks. Instead the dock lines are attached to the dock with chains and tossed to the boat. They are not very long and very frayed on the ends and there are only 3, 2 for the bow and one at the stern. Actually, most of the boats are in stern first, so that gives them 2 for the stern. They tie the bow to the dock on one side and to the boat next to them on the other side.
As soon as we are tied up we grab a quick sandwich and head ashore to the pool. This is the life. We settle in lounge chairs and are provided with cushions, an umbrella, towels, menus. There are not many people here but everyone is very nice and eager to know where we are from. Upstairs in the main building we discover hot showers and a sauna complete with large fluffy towels. Just past the main gate there is a very complete ships chandlery. There is a subtle but noticeable difference between being in a marina and being at a yacht club. As much as we tout the vagabond life, we also love the life of luxury.
In the evening we walk across town to see the famous cliff divers. There is an official viewing station right next to the cliff but most of the locals are spread out along the cliff road. There are hundreds of people out enjoying the evening. Street vendors work the crowd. Families pose for photos. Lovers snuggle. Performances are at 7:30, 8:30, 9:30 and 10:30. We watch the 8:30 show from the road and then, since this is a once in a lifetime trip for us, we pay our money and follow the steps down the cliff for the 9:30 show. We are just a few yards from the pool that the divers will enter. It is an amazingly small area to hit, surrounded by rocks on all sides. The water swirls and rushes in and out. 4 or 5 young boys in swimsuits push through the crowd and climb down the cliff into the water and start jumping and diving and playing in the water. Then the divers themselves appear. They come down the steps through the crowd, over the railing and into the water. It is dark now and spotlights come on, illuminating the cliffside and the pool of water.They are so young, teenagers, with very strong, well muscled bodies. Soon we seem them on the other side of the pool, climbing up out of the water and onto the sheer face of the cliff. Suddenly they are swarming right up the cliff like monkeys. Several of the very young ones are right with them. Then the first one dives off the face of the cliff into the swirling water below. One by one, they climb higher and higher and dive down, sometimes in pairs, mostly on their own. Finally there is only one left, at the very top. There is a small shrine there and we can see him turn and say a prayer. There is a long period of anticipation while he works the crowd and then he is off is a beautiful swan dive and the performance is over.
Just as the last dive is complete, it starts to rain. Gently at first but by the time we get back up to the top and into a taxi it is pouring. We left the hatches open on the boat and by the time we walk from the gate to the boat we are soaked, the rug is soaked and worst of all, the bed is soaked and rain is dribbling in through the portholes. Luckily we had put the computers away before we left. We close the hatches and portholes, which now makes it really hot. One person can sleep on the dry half of the bed, while the other half is layered with towels. I get to sleep on the settee. It pours for most of the night but by the morning it is clear and beautiful.
When we emerge we discover and unforeseen problem. The cement docks do not float and the tide has dropped so low that our rail is almost under the dock and the side has been dreadfully scrapped. Luckily, we have passed the low and it is on its way back up. Beautiful as it is here, we cannot afford another night. We treat ourselves to a cappuccino at the restaurant, check the weather and check out with the port captain. The weather system offshore is gaining strength although it is heading northwest so we are going to go back across the bay to Puerto Marques and anchor until it looks safe to head north
This is certainly a different trip from the fierce rain storms on the way down. It is warm, there is a new moon. Alan puts on a Dave Brubeck Christmas album on his watch and we drink hot chocolate. There is lightning off in the distance so I got out the battery cables and attached them but it passes behind us. Typically the wind has dies at sunset so we use the engine all night and into the next day. The point of this trip is to get back to the safety of Puerto Vallarta as quickly as possible. We need to run the water maker, now that we are out of the very dirty marina. While he is doing that, Alan spots the gecko disappearing into a cupboard. I had thought she was gone for sure but apparently she is just fine. Must have stuffed herself with bugs in Huatulco. Next day we took the head apart and spent several hours scrubbing it.
There is not a cloud in the sky during the day, at least not where we are. Although as usual we can see them building over the land in the afternoon. It is so hot that I rig a sun shade for the cockpit out of fabric left over from the awning. We are having our usual bout of wind from the wrong direction so we tack every hour or so trying to keep on course. It does not seen quite fair that the wind was in our face all the way down and now it is in our face again on the way back. At least on way should be the “right” way. Early the next morning, just at the change of the watch, there is lightning all around and a sudden wild burst of wind and we are going 7.5 knots. That is faster than this boat is supposed to go. Glad that it happened when we were both up. It only lasted 20 minutes and then the wind dropped back to almost nothing.
About 9pm on the 3rd night we see the lights of Acapulco. We need to wait for dawn to enter the harbor so we continue to tack slowly up the coast. Unfortunately our lovely sail is about to end miserably. Every other night the clouds had built up in the afternoon and passed out to sea in the evening. We would see the lightning in the distance but it had not come close and we had stars and moonlight between the clouds overhead. But this last night the clouds just got thicker and thicker. Suddenly there was lightning all around, everywhere, way too much lightning! Thunder. And wind, in sudden fierce and unpredictable gusts up to 20 knots. Not letting up. Not passing in 20 minutes. From midnight until dawn, just off a very rocky coast, we had rain, wind and lighting and cargo ships. Finally the sky lightened with the dawn and the wind let up and we motored into Puerto Marquez, just off the mouth of the main harbor and dropped anchor. (We found out later that this is where Drake used to hide out to attack the Spanish galleons)
6/8/13 Huatulco - North or South?
Ever since we decided not to go to the South Pacific this year, we have had the question of where to spend hurricane season. I had thought that we would get to spend the summer exploring Mexico, visiting all of the coastal villages and harbors. However, I was not thinking about hurricane season. The danger season is from June to November and the word is that one needs to be south of 10 degrees by the beginning of June. That means we need to get to Costa Rica. Thus, our mad dash down the coast, stopping only when we to get fuel or needed to rest. Now we are almost there. Just across the bay of Tejuanapec is the southern border of Mexico. Guatemala is next but there are no very good harbors and it is very expensive. 250 miles further south is El Salvador. Although it is not quite 10 degrees, everyone says that it is lovely and has never been hit by a hurricane. There is a big push to get cruisers to come there, including “The Rally to El Salvador.” So that is our new goal. Once we get there we can relax. We will have 6 months before we can leave for the South Pacific. Maybe we will go further south, maybe to Panama, maybe through the canal, although probably not. We have all the charts and books.
Or we could stay here. This is also a safe harbor from hurricanes. It is hot and humid and we can see clouds and lightning over the mountains but it never seem to come into this bay. There is one other couple in the marina, living here year round on their trawler. They think we should just spend the summer here. There are world famous ruins and the colonial city of Oaxaca to explore. Wonderful food, nice people. We could leave the boat for a couple of weeks, rent a car and explore the country. But it is so hot and buggy. They have doors and screens and air conditioning. We have 2 small fans and mosquito net. We have a lot to get done to the boat before we “jump” and it is hard to get anything done in this heat. While there is an airport with direct flights to LA during the summer, there is no ships chandlery. The owner of the only other occupied boat here, flies to Houston once a month to get parts and supplies. It is really isolated and lonely here. We sleep much of the day, fight the bugs at night The water is too dirty for swimming in the marina and it is a 20 minute walk to the beach in the sweltering heat. No one is talking about cruising.
Alan just cannot decide. One day it is “go south”, the next “go north”. Every day he changes his mind. Now is the time to go but we could also turn around and go back to Puerto Vallarta. They say Puerto Vallarta is safe from hurricanes, even though it is not far enough south. Lots of cruisers spend the summer there. If we go back, we will be in contact with other cruisers who are doing the Puddle Jump. We can share ideas and learn from them. There is a series of meetings and seminars in January, and February and people set sail in groups. The camaraderie and support of other cruisers is starting to look better and better. It has been a long time since we have been able to reach anyone on the radio nets. We had thought that there were also seminars in El Salvador and that a lot of cruisers left from there, but the more we read the less that seems to be the case. The other jumping off place is Panama. Only the further south we go the more lightning we will have. The thought of a summer of lightning storms is worse than the threat of heat, flies and mosquitoes. We would spend the summer being hot and fighting bugs and not getting anything done. We know we need to make a decision. If we go north we can move into the marina, take advantage of their summer rates and get to work. And we would have showers, a spa, wifi, lovely grounds and an air conditioned lobby to hang out in with the beach and ocean just a few steps away. There is a big beautiful bay where I can practice my sailing skills and an airport with cheap flights to LA. But it is 700 miles away. We just spent weeks getting here.
And still he cannot make up his mind. Go south like the books say, go north or stay here? We are into hurricane season now and we need to constantly check the weather. This time of year the winds should be blowing north. If we watch the weather very carefully we should be able to avoid storms. The only trouble is, we cannot check the weather when we are off shore because we need to internet. That means that if we do go north we will have to check very carefully with the port captain and then move in fairly short hops, stopping to check the weather every few days. This is one more issue that we need to sort out before we head across the ocean, how to get weather data. Our radio is really good, but is so old that is can not get email. The more we sail, the more we discover things that really should be taken care of before we go.
Finally the decision is made. We are going back to Puerto Vallarta. Consultation with the port captain shows clear weather for the next several days, long enough to get to Acapulco where we will need to stop for gas. We are going to try to sail a much as possible but we also want to get back quickly. We are well into hurricane season and the longer we are out here sailing the more chance there is that we will run into trouble. A last trip to the grocery store. A last dinner ashore. We are ready to go.
Ever since we decided not to go to the South Pacific this year, we have had the question of where to spend hurricane season. I had thought that we would get to spend the summer exploring Mexico, visiting all of the coastal villages and harbors. However, I was not thinking about hurricane season. The danger season is from June to November and the word is that one needs to be south of 10 degrees by the beginning of June. That means we need to get to Costa Rica. Thus, our mad dash down the coast, stopping only when we to get fuel or needed to rest. Now we are almost there. Just across the bay of Tejuanapec is the southern border of Mexico. Guatemala is next but there are no very good harbors and it is very expensive. 250 miles further south is El Salvador. Although it is not quite 10 degrees, everyone says that it is lovely and has never been hit by a hurricane. There is a big push to get cruisers to come there, including “The Rally to El Salvador.” So that is our new goal. Once we get there we can relax. We will have 6 months before we can leave for the South Pacific. Maybe we will go further south, maybe to Panama, maybe through the canal, although probably not. We have all the charts and books.
Or we could stay here. This is also a safe harbor from hurricanes. It is hot and humid and we can see clouds and lightning over the mountains but it never seem to come into this bay. There is one other couple in the marina, living here year round on their trawler. They think we should just spend the summer here. There are world famous ruins and the colonial city of Oaxaca to explore. Wonderful food, nice people. We could leave the boat for a couple of weeks, rent a car and explore the country. But it is so hot and buggy. They have doors and screens and air conditioning. We have 2 small fans and mosquito net. We have a lot to get done to the boat before we “jump” and it is hard to get anything done in this heat. While there is an airport with direct flights to LA during the summer, there is no ships chandlery. The owner of the only other occupied boat here, flies to Houston once a month to get parts and supplies. It is really isolated and lonely here. We sleep much of the day, fight the bugs at night The water is too dirty for swimming in the marina and it is a 20 minute walk to the beach in the sweltering heat. No one is talking about cruising.
Alan just cannot decide. One day it is “go south”, the next “go north”. Every day he changes his mind. Now is the time to go but we could also turn around and go back to Puerto Vallarta. They say Puerto Vallarta is safe from hurricanes, even though it is not far enough south. Lots of cruisers spend the summer there. If we go back, we will be in contact with other cruisers who are doing the Puddle Jump. We can share ideas and learn from them. There is a series of meetings and seminars in January, and February and people set sail in groups. The camaraderie and support of other cruisers is starting to look better and better. It has been a long time since we have been able to reach anyone on the radio nets. We had thought that there were also seminars in El Salvador and that a lot of cruisers left from there, but the more we read the less that seems to be the case. The other jumping off place is Panama. Only the further south we go the more lightning we will have. The thought of a summer of lightning storms is worse than the threat of heat, flies and mosquitoes. We would spend the summer being hot and fighting bugs and not getting anything done. We know we need to make a decision. If we go north we can move into the marina, take advantage of their summer rates and get to work. And we would have showers, a spa, wifi, lovely grounds and an air conditioned lobby to hang out in with the beach and ocean just a few steps away. There is a big beautiful bay where I can practice my sailing skills and an airport with cheap flights to LA. But it is 700 miles away. We just spent weeks getting here.
And still he cannot make up his mind. Go south like the books say, go north or stay here? We are into hurricane season now and we need to constantly check the weather. This time of year the winds should be blowing north. If we watch the weather very carefully we should be able to avoid storms. The only trouble is, we cannot check the weather when we are off shore because we need to internet. That means that if we do go north we will have to check very carefully with the port captain and then move in fairly short hops, stopping to check the weather every few days. This is one more issue that we need to sort out before we head across the ocean, how to get weather data. Our radio is really good, but is so old that is can not get email. The more we sail, the more we discover things that really should be taken care of before we go.
Finally the decision is made. We are going back to Puerto Vallarta. Consultation with the port captain shows clear weather for the next several days, long enough to get to Acapulco where we will need to stop for gas. We are going to try to sail a much as possible but we also want to get back quickly. We are well into hurricane season and the longer we are out here sailing the more chance there is that we will run into trouble. A last trip to the grocery store. A last dinner ashore. We are ready to go.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
June 5-16 Huatulco, Mexico.
It is hot, hot, hot and humid. Too hot to sleep except that we are so tired we do sleep but we do not wake up very refreshed. Besides the heat there are flies, fruit flies and regular flies. At least there are almost no mosquitoes or no-see-ums. But the flies are everywhere. I dig out my bag of bug stuff again and pull out some fly paper strips that I picked up at the 99 cent store before we left. Within an hour of hanging it up it is black with flies. Next morning I add a second one and soon a third . Eventually one more goes outside in the cockpit.
The marina is small and almost deserted. A couple of boats leave the day after we arrive. Almost all of the boats that are left are large motor yachts which are obviously docked here full time. The swell comes straight in the channel and all the boats are double tied with as many lines and fenders as they can find. There is a gas dock but it is not working so we arrange to have fuel delivered in jerry cans. The row of shops is mostly closed although they do open from time to time on a sort of random schedule. The wifi does not reach to the boat and the hot shower that I had been looking forward to is a cold shower in an outdoor stall with mold on the wall and ants on the floor. Next to the shower is the bathroom, guarded by 24 hour security. I have to ask to have the door unlocked every time I want to use the bathroom. Mostly I just use the head on the boat and eventually realize that I might as well use the hose on the dock to shower. the water in the marina looks clean but smells foul so there is no chance of a swim here.
It is hot, hot, hot and humid. Too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. I end up sleeping on the deck and still don’t sleep much. Too hot to cook but I still have to cook meals. I drip sweat all over the galley. Too hot to get anything done. There are three projects that need to be done before we take off again. The shrouds need have the wrapping around the splice replaced. The main halyard needs to be freed from its jam and the sail un-reefed. The mast needs to be checked to see if the creaking is a problem. None of these project should take more than a few hours. They take days. It is just too hot to move.
I have sun shades that I made before we left that we have never used. I manage to find them and put them up. At least we can sit on the deck and get some air without frying. The big awning has to come down in the afternoon when the wind comes up because it is so big it pulls the boat around. When the when the wind dies at sunset it goes back up. I have 10 yards of bridal netting that I brought from home and a net canopy with a round hoop at the top that was meant to go on a bed. Eventually I figure how to rig this to cover the wind scoop on the forward hatch. I use a piece of the netting and a wooden hoop that find to make another smaller one for the main hatch. I stitch a long piece of drapery weight along the bottom edge to hold it down. (You just never know what is going to come in handy) I also dig out 2 fans and set them up. It all helps a little. At least Alan can sleep. It is still hot, hot, hot and humid.
Part 2
And yet, I find that I really enjoy the town. It is the most “Mexican” that we have been in, with very little gringo influence. Many of the streets are double drives with grass and trees planted down the center and paths and benches under the trees. The trees are covered with brilliant blooms and strange looking seed pods. It is definitely tropical (Did I mention it was hot?) There is a large central plaza in front of the church and lots of parks. Unlike in most other ports, the marina is actually very close to the town. An easy walk in cooler weather. The sightseeing buses stop on the bridge and point out the yachts in the marinas. We can hear party music from the hotels all night long. There is a supermarket about half way to town where I can stop and enjoy the super air conditioning until I have cooled off enough to continue.
Shops in town are full of delightful Oaxacan goods, brightly emboirdered clothes, rugs and blankets, whimsical carved wooden animals and jewelry. I have no need for, no room for and no budget for anything (except food) but it is fun to browse. I spent a happy hour at the local handicraft shop where I get a complete lesson on weaving with the old looms and dying with the natural dyes. Fascinating. The indigo color comes from what I think was fossilized charcoal. Red is cochineal, which is a bug found on cactus plants. Thousands of the must be harvested, dried, ground to a powder and mixed with water and salt to make a small amount of dye. Copal bark makes a brown dye and the golden sap has a wonderful smell. I was encouraged to use the indian names of everything, since those names are much more expressive of the true nature of things than the silly names given by the Spanish and English.
The food is wonderful. We discovered a restaurant called Sabor de Oaxaca and tried to eat our way through their menu. Chile Rellenos are from here, as is mole. Coffee olla had a wonderful flavor of cinnamon. Mezcal is the local version of tequilla, made from the heart of the cactus rather than the leave with a wonderful smoky flavor sort of like whiskey. We found a “tasting store” and spent an hour tasting all of their mole, mezcal, cheese, chocolate and the local snack of dried grasshoppers, which I actually liked. I am saving a bag of grasshoppers for Bas and Jack. The cheese is wonderful, much like a good string cheese.
As a final treat to myself, I enjoyed a temescal spa. A courtyard attached to a small house in the residential zone. Two lovely ladies who spoke very little English. I was the only customer. First step was to undress, wrap in a towel and drink a class of cool water. Then I was escorted to the steam house, sort of like a navajo sweat lodge. Two vents in the floor introduced steam loaded with 20 different herbs guarenteed to detoxify and refresh. Every 10 minures I was instructed in a different “exercise”; breathing, chanting, visualization. It seemed sort of silly to subject myself to hot steam, given that my entire experience of Huatulco consisted of hot and steamy, but this was different and in the end, very relaxing. After my time steaming was done, I was wrapped in a sheet to cool off and then shown to a cool, rock lined shower. A cup of herbal tea followed. Then up to the roof where I was scrubbed with red mud and left to dry. Another cool shower and the the massage. A plate of fresh fruit ended the treatment. All this, 1 1/2 hours of bliss for $35!
It is hot, hot, hot and humid. Too hot to sleep except that we are so tired we do sleep but we do not wake up very refreshed. Besides the heat there are flies, fruit flies and regular flies. At least there are almost no mosquitoes or no-see-ums. But the flies are everywhere. I dig out my bag of bug stuff again and pull out some fly paper strips that I picked up at the 99 cent store before we left. Within an hour of hanging it up it is black with flies. Next morning I add a second one and soon a third . Eventually one more goes outside in the cockpit.
The marina is small and almost deserted. A couple of boats leave the day after we arrive. Almost all of the boats that are left are large motor yachts which are obviously docked here full time. The swell comes straight in the channel and all the boats are double tied with as many lines and fenders as they can find. There is a gas dock but it is not working so we arrange to have fuel delivered in jerry cans. The row of shops is mostly closed although they do open from time to time on a sort of random schedule. The wifi does not reach to the boat and the hot shower that I had been looking forward to is a cold shower in an outdoor stall with mold on the wall and ants on the floor. Next to the shower is the bathroom, guarded by 24 hour security. I have to ask to have the door unlocked every time I want to use the bathroom. Mostly I just use the head on the boat and eventually realize that I might as well use the hose on the dock to shower. the water in the marina looks clean but smells foul so there is no chance of a swim here.
It is hot, hot, hot and humid. Too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. I end up sleeping on the deck and still don’t sleep much. Too hot to cook but I still have to cook meals. I drip sweat all over the galley. Too hot to get anything done. There are three projects that need to be done before we take off again. The shrouds need have the wrapping around the splice replaced. The main halyard needs to be freed from its jam and the sail un-reefed. The mast needs to be checked to see if the creaking is a problem. None of these project should take more than a few hours. They take days. It is just too hot to move.
I have sun shades that I made before we left that we have never used. I manage to find them and put them up. At least we can sit on the deck and get some air without frying. The big awning has to come down in the afternoon when the wind comes up because it is so big it pulls the boat around. When the when the wind dies at sunset it goes back up. I have 10 yards of bridal netting that I brought from home and a net canopy with a round hoop at the top that was meant to go on a bed. Eventually I figure how to rig this to cover the wind scoop on the forward hatch. I use a piece of the netting and a wooden hoop that find to make another smaller one for the main hatch. I stitch a long piece of drapery weight along the bottom edge to hold it down. (You just never know what is going to come in handy) I also dig out 2 fans and set them up. It all helps a little. At least Alan can sleep. It is still hot, hot, hot and humid.
Part 2
And yet, I find that I really enjoy the town. It is the most “Mexican” that we have been in, with very little gringo influence. Many of the streets are double drives with grass and trees planted down the center and paths and benches under the trees. The trees are covered with brilliant blooms and strange looking seed pods. It is definitely tropical (Did I mention it was hot?) There is a large central plaza in front of the church and lots of parks. Unlike in most other ports, the marina is actually very close to the town. An easy walk in cooler weather. The sightseeing buses stop on the bridge and point out the yachts in the marinas. We can hear party music from the hotels all night long. There is a supermarket about half way to town where I can stop and enjoy the super air conditioning until I have cooled off enough to continue.
Shops in town are full of delightful Oaxacan goods, brightly emboirdered clothes, rugs and blankets, whimsical carved wooden animals and jewelry. I have no need for, no room for and no budget for anything (except food) but it is fun to browse. I spent a happy hour at the local handicraft shop where I get a complete lesson on weaving with the old looms and dying with the natural dyes. Fascinating. The indigo color comes from what I think was fossilized charcoal. Red is cochineal, which is a bug found on cactus plants. Thousands of the must be harvested, dried, ground to a powder and mixed with water and salt to make a small amount of dye. Copal bark makes a brown dye and the golden sap has a wonderful smell. I was encouraged to use the indian names of everything, since those names are much more expressive of the true nature of things than the silly names given by the Spanish and English.
The food is wonderful. We discovered a restaurant called Sabor de Oaxaca and tried to eat our way through their menu. Chile Rellenos are from here, as is mole. Coffee olla had a wonderful flavor of cinnamon. Mezcal is the local version of tequilla, made from the heart of the cactus rather than the leave with a wonderful smoky flavor sort of like whiskey. We found a “tasting store” and spent an hour tasting all of their mole, mezcal, cheese, chocolate and the local snack of dried grasshoppers, which I actually liked. I am saving a bag of grasshoppers for Bas and Jack. The cheese is wonderful, much like a good string cheese.
As a final treat to myself, I enjoyed a temescal spa. A courtyard attached to a small house in the residential zone. Two lovely ladies who spoke very little English. I was the only customer. First step was to undress, wrap in a towel and drink a class of cool water. Then I was escorted to the steam house, sort of like a navajo sweat lodge. Two vents in the floor introduced steam loaded with 20 different herbs guarenteed to detoxify and refresh. Every 10 minures I was instructed in a different “exercise”; breathing, chanting, visualization. It seemed sort of silly to subject myself to hot steam, given that my entire experience of Huatulco consisted of hot and steamy, but this was different and in the end, very relaxing. After my time steaming was done, I was wrapped in a sheet to cool off and then shown to a cool, rock lined shower. A cup of herbal tea followed. Then up to the roof where I was scrubbed with red mud and left to dry. Another cool shower and the the massage. A plate of fresh fruit ended the treatment. All this, 1 1/2 hours of bliss for $35!
Friday, June 21, 2013
6/5/13, Puerto Angel to Huatulco
Both of our cruising guides said that Puerto Angel was a delightful harbor so we decided to stop there to regroup for a day before going on to Huatulco. But when we worked our way into the harbor, past all of the rocks, it was tiny. What room there was, was filled with mooring balls. The only spot that we could see would have been close to shore, in the midst of the pongas and right in the surf line. By mutual consent we decided to keep going. Luckily it is 8 am and Huatulco is only 25 miles away. We should be there early afternoon. We are so tired. Alan sets the course and drives while I get an hours sleep, then he sleeps while I steer us up the bay. Again the wind is coming directly towards us, but at this point we don’t care. The engine is on and will stay on until we are moored in the marina.
The weather has cleared and it is beautiful. White puffy clouds build over the mountain but the sun is out and the water is calm. The coast along here is exquisite. Rugged green hills plunge into the ocean. Rocky headlands separate wide sandy beaches. After a few houses and villages just at the corner of the bay, there is no sign of people. Mile after mile we cruise along, Alan sleeping, me sitting in the sun, reading and watching the radar. Alan gets up, I grab another quick nap and finally we arrive at Huatulco.
Our paper charts show a cluster of rocks at the entrance to the harbor. The electronic charts show even more rocks, stretching in a long line across the bay. Looking out, there is a bright line of white foam which looks like it stretches all the way to the cliffs. From this perspective it looks like there is almost no room between the rocks and the beach. As we get closer the view changes and we can see that it is possible to pass but very carefully. Alan has discovered another sunken rock on his chart. No foam to mark it but we need to be sure to steer clear of it too. Carefully, carefully we enter. Luckily there is not much wind. Time to get out the fenders and mooring lines. While I am up on the bow, attaching the mooring lines Alan calls to look up. We are about to enter a very narrow channel between the breakwater and a sheer rock cliff. I abandon my lines to run back and take up my station at the depth gauge. It stays between 1.5 and 2 fathoms all the way, thankfully. Back to the lines. Alan has called the marina and been assigned a slip. There is a guy on the dock, yelling and waving. We are directed all the way back into the closest slip to the shore. With 3 guys on the dock and me throwing ropes, Alan manages to bring Rhapsody to a smooth stop. Finally, here we are.
There are 2 or 3 other cruising boats here, not many. Everyone is surprised to see us arrive. We are way late for going south, or even for going north. We have a lot to discuss about the next phase of this adventure. But first, a quick meal and a long sleep.
Both of our cruising guides said that Puerto Angel was a delightful harbor so we decided to stop there to regroup for a day before going on to Huatulco. But when we worked our way into the harbor, past all of the rocks, it was tiny. What room there was, was filled with mooring balls. The only spot that we could see would have been close to shore, in the midst of the pongas and right in the surf line. By mutual consent we decided to keep going. Luckily it is 8 am and Huatulco is only 25 miles away. We should be there early afternoon. We are so tired. Alan sets the course and drives while I get an hours sleep, then he sleeps while I steer us up the bay. Again the wind is coming directly towards us, but at this point we don’t care. The engine is on and will stay on until we are moored in the marina.
The weather has cleared and it is beautiful. White puffy clouds build over the mountain but the sun is out and the water is calm. The coast along here is exquisite. Rugged green hills plunge into the ocean. Rocky headlands separate wide sandy beaches. After a few houses and villages just at the corner of the bay, there is no sign of people. Mile after mile we cruise along, Alan sleeping, me sitting in the sun, reading and watching the radar. Alan gets up, I grab another quick nap and finally we arrive at Huatulco.
Our paper charts show a cluster of rocks at the entrance to the harbor. The electronic charts show even more rocks, stretching in a long line across the bay. Looking out, there is a bright line of white foam which looks like it stretches all the way to the cliffs. From this perspective it looks like there is almost no room between the rocks and the beach. As we get closer the view changes and we can see that it is possible to pass but very carefully. Alan has discovered another sunken rock on his chart. No foam to mark it but we need to be sure to steer clear of it too. Carefully, carefully we enter. Luckily there is not much wind. Time to get out the fenders and mooring lines. While I am up on the bow, attaching the mooring lines Alan calls to look up. We are about to enter a very narrow channel between the breakwater and a sheer rock cliff. I abandon my lines to run back and take up my station at the depth gauge. It stays between 1.5 and 2 fathoms all the way, thankfully. Back to the lines. Alan has called the marina and been assigned a slip. There is a guy on the dock, yelling and waving. We are directed all the way back into the closest slip to the shore. With 3 guys on the dock and me throwing ropes, Alan manages to bring Rhapsody to a smooth stop. Finally, here we are.
There are 2 or 3 other cruising boats here, not many. Everyone is surprised to see us arrive. We are way late for going south, or even for going north. We have a lot to discuss about the next phase of this adventure. But first, a quick meal and a long sleep.
May 30-June 5, Ixtapa to Huatulco 6 day stormy passage
Finally we can leave. There is no dredging so we can leave on the high tide. We are full of gas. The hurricane is gone and the ports are open all the way to Huatulco. Back out the narrow channel we go and right into huge swells. Everything that was not properly stowed goes crashing to the floor. Luckily we have learned that lesson and there is very little that actually crashes. It is wild enough that I decide that a pre-emptive seasick patch would be a good idea. I had forgotten that they make me sleepy and give me a very dry mouth and a funny taste but I don’t get sick.
We hoist the sails as soon as we get clear of the harbor, not an easy job in such rough seas. We have 8-10 knots of wind, but typically coming directly from the direction we need to go which means we have to head way offshore. Nonetheless, Alan has a lovely brisk sail while I nap. Late in the afternoon we saw large rays leaping out of the water. We had seen brown rays previously but these were stunning black and white and leapt 5-6 feet out of the water, spinning and twisting. I had bought a tortilla press in Zhuatenajo and actually made fresh tortillas for dinner.
The wind dropped a bit at sunset and then died away to nothing about 3 am when I finally gave up trying to nurse Rhapsody along on 1 knot of wind and turned the engine on. The seas stay calm and the wind dead through the night and into the next afternoon, when it picks up again and we can finally turn the engine off. Of course it dies again at sunset. And so it is a game; wind down, engine on, sail down. Wind up, engine off, sails up. Since it takes two people to raise or lower sails or chance tacks, it has to be done to coincide with the change of the watch. During one of these sails down, sails up maneuvers the halyard jams on the mast steps which Alan has installed at the very top of the mast. In the end, we decide to reef it, leaving it half way up and half way down.
We are visited by lots of dolphins. At night we can hear them breathing, even though we cannot see them. During the day we see turtles floating by, often with birds standing on their back going for a ride. We also see the rays jumping at sunset each day. We are heading toward the dark of the moon and it comes up later and later each night, leaving the sky to the stars. As we pass Acapulco there is an increase in shipping traffic and we have to alter course several times to avoid them. One huge car carrier passes within a mile of us.
We have started to track the barometric reading on our handheld GPS and it has dropped down to 1008. Since we have not been consistent about it up until now, we are not sure what that means but it does not sound good. Normal is around 1012. The weather maps that we looked at in Ixtapa showed clear weather for the rest of the week, but it is becoming more and more cloudy. Big puffy clouds build up over the land during the day. Then on the third night the storms hit. First lightning, then pouring rain. And so for the next 3 days we have lovely weather during the day and violent thunder storms at night. The crazy thing is that we often had patches of clear sky with star in the middle of the storms. I had packed away our foul weather gear foolishly thinking that since we were in the tropics in the summer we would not need it. Silly me. Eventually I dug it out of the back of the closet. Luckily it is not really cold, just WET.
The scariest part is the lightning. We have heard stories of boats getting struck by lightning and having all of the electronics fried. We are not sure what to do to avoid it. One of the recommendations is to attach one end of a battery cable to the shrouds and drop the other end into the water. I think the theory is that if we are struck, the lightning will just go right down the cables and into the ocean without hurting anything on the boat. I am not quite sure I believe that this will work but it doesn’t matter because of course we have no battery cables. Alan has started trying to use the radar to avoid the storms, but it is not working. The storms just seem to hang right over us all night long. We have the engine on most of the time now, since the wind comes in erratic bursts and always from the wrong direction. At least the seas are fairly calm. We do not have to contend with huge swells along with all the rest of it. On my watch on our last night I become very aware of the mizzen mast creaking. I have never noticed it before. Alan says that it is a wooden boat and wood boats creak, especially if they get wet. Nonetheless, I am convinced that a change to the rigging that we made before we left has but an undue strain on the mast and we will now pay the price.
In addition to the weather, there are still ships to watch out for, including Mexican Navy ships which are exempt from using the AIS system. And on top of everything else, our iPads start to have battery issues. Suddenly they will not charge. We plug them in and they look like they are charging, but about 15 minutes later they are no longer charging. Often they display a message saying that we are using an unauthorized device. It’s the same plug that we have been using for months but we try switching plugs and cables and whatever we can think of. We use one as long as we can and then plug it in and use the other until it runs out. Needless to say, we are neither one of us getting very much sleep and we started off tired, thanks to all the bugs in Ixtapa. Off watch times are constantly interrupted by emergencies. Meals are mostly boil-in-the-bag, power bars, energy drinks and coffee. Finally on the morning of day 6, we reach Puerto Angel right where it should be. We have completed a 6 day passage, our longest yet and survived 3 nights of rain and lightning. High five!
Finally we can leave. There is no dredging so we can leave on the high tide. We are full of gas. The hurricane is gone and the ports are open all the way to Huatulco. Back out the narrow channel we go and right into huge swells. Everything that was not properly stowed goes crashing to the floor. Luckily we have learned that lesson and there is very little that actually crashes. It is wild enough that I decide that a pre-emptive seasick patch would be a good idea. I had forgotten that they make me sleepy and give me a very dry mouth and a funny taste but I don’t get sick.
We hoist the sails as soon as we get clear of the harbor, not an easy job in such rough seas. We have 8-10 knots of wind, but typically coming directly from the direction we need to go which means we have to head way offshore. Nonetheless, Alan has a lovely brisk sail while I nap. Late in the afternoon we saw large rays leaping out of the water. We had seen brown rays previously but these were stunning black and white and leapt 5-6 feet out of the water, spinning and twisting. I had bought a tortilla press in Zhuatenajo and actually made fresh tortillas for dinner.
The wind dropped a bit at sunset and then died away to nothing about 3 am when I finally gave up trying to nurse Rhapsody along on 1 knot of wind and turned the engine on. The seas stay calm and the wind dead through the night and into the next afternoon, when it picks up again and we can finally turn the engine off. Of course it dies again at sunset. And so it is a game; wind down, engine on, sail down. Wind up, engine off, sails up. Since it takes two people to raise or lower sails or chance tacks, it has to be done to coincide with the change of the watch. During one of these sails down, sails up maneuvers the halyard jams on the mast steps which Alan has installed at the very top of the mast. In the end, we decide to reef it, leaving it half way up and half way down.
We are visited by lots of dolphins. At night we can hear them breathing, even though we cannot see them. During the day we see turtles floating by, often with birds standing on their back going for a ride. We also see the rays jumping at sunset each day. We are heading toward the dark of the moon and it comes up later and later each night, leaving the sky to the stars. As we pass Acapulco there is an increase in shipping traffic and we have to alter course several times to avoid them. One huge car carrier passes within a mile of us.
We have started to track the barometric reading on our handheld GPS and it has dropped down to 1008. Since we have not been consistent about it up until now, we are not sure what that means but it does not sound good. Normal is around 1012. The weather maps that we looked at in Ixtapa showed clear weather for the rest of the week, but it is becoming more and more cloudy. Big puffy clouds build up over the land during the day. Then on the third night the storms hit. First lightning, then pouring rain. And so for the next 3 days we have lovely weather during the day and violent thunder storms at night. The crazy thing is that we often had patches of clear sky with star in the middle of the storms. I had packed away our foul weather gear foolishly thinking that since we were in the tropics in the summer we would not need it. Silly me. Eventually I dug it out of the back of the closet. Luckily it is not really cold, just WET.
The scariest part is the lightning. We have heard stories of boats getting struck by lightning and having all of the electronics fried. We are not sure what to do to avoid it. One of the recommendations is to attach one end of a battery cable to the shrouds and drop the other end into the water. I think the theory is that if we are struck, the lightning will just go right down the cables and into the ocean without hurting anything on the boat. I am not quite sure I believe that this will work but it doesn’t matter because of course we have no battery cables. Alan has started trying to use the radar to avoid the storms, but it is not working. The storms just seem to hang right over us all night long. We have the engine on most of the time now, since the wind comes in erratic bursts and always from the wrong direction. At least the seas are fairly calm. We do not have to contend with huge swells along with all the rest of it. On my watch on our last night I become very aware of the mizzen mast creaking. I have never noticed it before. Alan says that it is a wooden boat and wood boats creak, especially if they get wet. Nonetheless, I am convinced that a change to the rigging that we made before we left has but an undue strain on the mast and we will now pay the price.
In addition to the weather, there are still ships to watch out for, including Mexican Navy ships which are exempt from using the AIS system. And on top of everything else, our iPads start to have battery issues. Suddenly they will not charge. We plug them in and they look like they are charging, but about 15 minutes later they are no longer charging. Often they display a message saying that we are using an unauthorized device. It’s the same plug that we have been using for months but we try switching plugs and cables and whatever we can think of. We use one as long as we can and then plug it in and use the other until it runs out. Needless to say, we are neither one of us getting very much sleep and we started off tired, thanks to all the bugs in Ixtapa. Off watch times are constantly interrupted by emergencies. Meals are mostly boil-in-the-bag, power bars, energy drinks and coffee. Finally on the morning of day 6, we reach Puerto Angel right where it should be. We have completed a 6 day passage, our longest yet and survived 3 nights of rain and lightning. High five!
Sunday, June 16, 2013
5/23-30/2013 Zihuatenago, Ixtapa
A lovely, deep bay filled with fishing boats. Only 2 other cruising boats. The obligatory palapa restaurants on shore. There are several more beaches around the bay and pongas are racing back and forth taking families from one side to the other. There is no dingy pier here, we will have to land on the beach. Landing in the surf is a problem with the motor so we will be rowing ashore while we are here. The first time in is not very pretty. We get swept sideways and I fall completely into the water. Luckily a couple of fishermen come running over and help us pull up above the tide line. It goes much smoother the rest of the time we are here. Luckily all of our stuff is in waterproof bags and cases.
We check in with the port captain and set off to investigate the town. It is charming. Several blocks closest to the beach have been fixed up with a wide arcade along the front of the shops and brick patterned streets. The rest of the town spreads back up into the hills. We are far enough south and late enough in the season that there are few American tourists around. It is obviously a beach resort but for the Mexicans. We have drinks on the beach and enjoy paradise.
We only intend to stay here long enough to catch our breath and get gas and groceries before we keep going. But the fuel dock is not here, it is in Ixtapa, 10 miles up the coast. Once again the familiar layout of the traditional village separated from the marina and high rise hotels. We spend a last afternoon exploring the estuary; fishing boats, egrets, herons and crocodiles. The next day we are off. Again the marina entrance is a narrow, shallow channel beset by waves and tides, closed is rough weather. A quick sail up the coast and we are at the entrance. I call the port captain to report our arrival and ask for permission to enter only to be told that the channel is closed until 7pm and the marina is out to lunch until 4pm.
So here we are with 6 hours to kill. We could go back and anchor again. We could motor around in circles. We could sail out and back. There is a fairly nice wind. Alan decides that this is the perfect chance to try out our new mizzen staysail. He ordered it before we left and I brought it back to La Paz after Christmas. We hoisted it once at the dock to see how it fit and since then he has bought all of the lines and shackles needed to hoist it but we have never actually tried it at sea. It fits between the main sail and the mizzen and is intended to give extra speed when the wind is behind us. It is stowed in the lazarette but since we have never used it, all kinds of stuff has been put on top of it. So everything has to come out and then the sail, with great pulling and puffing, is finally free. Now to put it up. One corner ties to a cleat on the main mast, another hooks to a line on the mizzen boom. An extra halyard has been added to hoist it up. It is huge! And very blue. Time to turn off the engine and see what happens. Interesting. It gives us about 2 knots but it is impossible to hold a course. It just pulls us up into the wind. None of the other sails are up so Alan decided to hoist the main and see what happens. This is better. The two work together but it is still hard to hold a course. the 6 hours pass quickly as we mess with various sail combinations. Eventually we bring it back down, fold it and stow it. While Alan was messing with the sail I took the chance to reorganize the lazarette and It actually goes back in much easier than it came out.
Back at the harbor entrance again, we reach the marina office and learn that the channel was closed not for weather but for dredging. She says to stand by and she will let us know when the dredger has stopped for the day so that we can enter. About 20 minutes later we get the all clear. Here we go . Alan’s days spent body surfing in Malibu pay off and we surf huge swells into the very narrow channel.
Once inside it is hot and still with very few boats. The office staff has left for the day but the security guard meets us at the dock and helps us tie up. Water and power are turned on and the numbers logged. He gives us keys and shows us the office and showers. Once again a typical FONATUR marina, miles away from the local culture, surrounded by a golf course, condos and upscale restaurants. We pop a warm beer and sit on the deck and watch a crocodile drift slowly past, only his eyes above the water. And then the bugs start to bite. We had been warned about no-see-ums in other places but not here. I had stocked up on all kinds of inset repellants before leaving so I frantically dig out the bag and we slather ourselves with some of everything. Unfortunately I have never figured out how screen the hatches without cutting off all of the air inside. We spent an absolutely miserable night and got us the next morning to find ourselves covered with bites from head to toe. Luckily they went away during the day and after a long shower we felt much better. Unlike mosquito bites, the welts disappeared within a few hours. Anyway, we are only here long enough to get gas and get the laundry done and then we are leaving.
Right. When Alan went to check in with the office he discovered some unpleasant news. First, because of the dredging we can only leave after 7 pm and before 7 am, or from 1-2 in the afternoon. We are not really anxious to leave in the dark but we figure it is almost light by 7 in the morning. If we cast off at 6:30 am we should clear the channel before they start work. That means one more night of bugs. However, more importantly, the weather does not look good. And when we show up in the afternoon to check out we are told that we cannot leave. Not only is this channel closed but all the ports all the way down to Huatulco are close due to a “weather system”.
I spend the next 2 days in the office catching up with my writing. Alan gets to know a Brazilian couple on one of the only other boats here and they trade info on weather software. In the evening we walk about 10 minutes up the road to a shopping center where we can get reasonably priced tacos. Finally, after two more bug ridden nights, we are told that the system has passed and the ports are open. Not only that but the dredging machines are not operating so we can leave any time. We are ready and out of there before noon. Alan had wanted to be south of 10 degrees (somewhere close to Costa Rica) by June first and it is now May 30. The longer it takes the more danger there is of hurricanes.
A lovely, deep bay filled with fishing boats. Only 2 other cruising boats. The obligatory palapa restaurants on shore. There are several more beaches around the bay and pongas are racing back and forth taking families from one side to the other. There is no dingy pier here, we will have to land on the beach. Landing in the surf is a problem with the motor so we will be rowing ashore while we are here. The first time in is not very pretty. We get swept sideways and I fall completely into the water. Luckily a couple of fishermen come running over and help us pull up above the tide line. It goes much smoother the rest of the time we are here. Luckily all of our stuff is in waterproof bags and cases.
We check in with the port captain and set off to investigate the town. It is charming. Several blocks closest to the beach have been fixed up with a wide arcade along the front of the shops and brick patterned streets. The rest of the town spreads back up into the hills. We are far enough south and late enough in the season that there are few American tourists around. It is obviously a beach resort but for the Mexicans. We have drinks on the beach and enjoy paradise.
We only intend to stay here long enough to catch our breath and get gas and groceries before we keep going. But the fuel dock is not here, it is in Ixtapa, 10 miles up the coast. Once again the familiar layout of the traditional village separated from the marina and high rise hotels. We spend a last afternoon exploring the estuary; fishing boats, egrets, herons and crocodiles. The next day we are off. Again the marina entrance is a narrow, shallow channel beset by waves and tides, closed is rough weather. A quick sail up the coast and we are at the entrance. I call the port captain to report our arrival and ask for permission to enter only to be told that the channel is closed until 7pm and the marina is out to lunch until 4pm.
So here we are with 6 hours to kill. We could go back and anchor again. We could motor around in circles. We could sail out and back. There is a fairly nice wind. Alan decides that this is the perfect chance to try out our new mizzen staysail. He ordered it before we left and I brought it back to La Paz after Christmas. We hoisted it once at the dock to see how it fit and since then he has bought all of the lines and shackles needed to hoist it but we have never actually tried it at sea. It fits between the main sail and the mizzen and is intended to give extra speed when the wind is behind us. It is stowed in the lazarette but since we have never used it, all kinds of stuff has been put on top of it. So everything has to come out and then the sail, with great pulling and puffing, is finally free. Now to put it up. One corner ties to a cleat on the main mast, another hooks to a line on the mizzen boom. An extra halyard has been added to hoist it up. It is huge! And very blue. Time to turn off the engine and see what happens. Interesting. It gives us about 2 knots but it is impossible to hold a course. It just pulls us up into the wind. None of the other sails are up so Alan decided to hoist the main and see what happens. This is better. The two work together but it is still hard to hold a course. the 6 hours pass quickly as we mess with various sail combinations. Eventually we bring it back down, fold it and stow it. While Alan was messing with the sail I took the chance to reorganize the lazarette and It actually goes back in much easier than it came out.
Back at the harbor entrance again, we reach the marina office and learn that the channel was closed not for weather but for dredging. She says to stand by and she will let us know when the dredger has stopped for the day so that we can enter. About 20 minutes later we get the all clear. Here we go . Alan’s days spent body surfing in Malibu pay off and we surf huge swells into the very narrow channel.
Once inside it is hot and still with very few boats. The office staff has left for the day but the security guard meets us at the dock and helps us tie up. Water and power are turned on and the numbers logged. He gives us keys and shows us the office and showers. Once again a typical FONATUR marina, miles away from the local culture, surrounded by a golf course, condos and upscale restaurants. We pop a warm beer and sit on the deck and watch a crocodile drift slowly past, only his eyes above the water. And then the bugs start to bite. We had been warned about no-see-ums in other places but not here. I had stocked up on all kinds of inset repellants before leaving so I frantically dig out the bag and we slather ourselves with some of everything. Unfortunately I have never figured out how screen the hatches without cutting off all of the air inside. We spent an absolutely miserable night and got us the next morning to find ourselves covered with bites from head to toe. Luckily they went away during the day and after a long shower we felt much better. Unlike mosquito bites, the welts disappeared within a few hours. Anyway, we are only here long enough to get gas and get the laundry done and then we are leaving.
Right. When Alan went to check in with the office he discovered some unpleasant news. First, because of the dredging we can only leave after 7 pm and before 7 am, or from 1-2 in the afternoon. We are not really anxious to leave in the dark but we figure it is almost light by 7 in the morning. If we cast off at 6:30 am we should clear the channel before they start work. That means one more night of bugs. However, more importantly, the weather does not look good. And when we show up in the afternoon to check out we are told that we cannot leave. Not only is this channel closed but all the ports all the way down to Huatulco are close due to a “weather system”.
I spend the next 2 days in the office catching up with my writing. Alan gets to know a Brazilian couple on one of the only other boats here and they trade info on weather software. In the evening we walk about 10 minutes up the road to a shopping center where we can get reasonably priced tacos. Finally, after two more bug ridden nights, we are told that the system has passed and the ports are open. Not only that but the dredging machines are not operating so we can leave any time. We are ready and out of there before noon. Alan had wanted to be south of 10 degrees (somewhere close to Costa Rica) by June first and it is now May 30. The longer it takes the more danger there is of hurricanes.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
5/19-23, 2013, Barra to Zihuatanejo, Four Nights at Sea
7:00, sun going down, high tide, slowly creeping across the lagoon. 1.5 fathoms where we are anchored. The anchor comes up covered with black mud. Alan has put waypoints into the GPS from our cruising guide but the guide is 3 years old and sand bars shift. Slowly, slowly we head out. Depth gauge reads less than 1 fathom. We creep along knowing there are only inches of water under the keel. Then the bump as it hits. Reverse, reverse we are off. Now which way to turn. Check the GPS. Creep along. Less than 1 fathom. Past the point where we stuck on the way in. Little by little the depth increases. I never thought that 1.5 fathoms would seem like a lot of water. In the channel now and out of the breakwater into the ocean.
It is just sunset and there is a good wind. We are heading south to Zihuatenajo, about 200 miles south. It all goes well it will be a 3-4 day sail. Once we are out we raise the sails and set the course. The patch where it was torn looks good. I whip up dinner. I have actually become quite good at cooking underway. The galley is so small that it is easy to brace myself in and we only ever use the same 1 or 2 pans. Not much fancy cooking but it keeps us going. After dinner I’m off to bed.
Midnight, my turn to sail. Sometime while I was sleeping Alan has turned on the motor. There is a slight wind but it is coming from dead ahead. The main concern is that we are in the shipping lanes. According to AIS, there are large cargo ships all around us. I never see most of them. Dodge a few.
The wind comes up towards dawn and blows a steady 7-8 knots all day. We run the water maker.and take turns sleeping. Wind dies about dusk and we turn the engine on again. The sea is glassy calm. During my watch late at night when I am very sleepy, I suddenly hear loud breathing right next to the boat. Scary, until I figure out that It is dolphins swimming along beside us. The wind has gotten really light and shifts. I actually manage to tack twice without waking Alan. The third time the wind shifts, I get the sails all confused and in irons. I finally turn on the engine to get us out of it. Darn. But I am starting to get it.
The next day the wind has died to almost nothing. It is hot and still. We strip and take turns dumping buckets of cool sea water over each other. Drifting along. We try various sail combinations and eventually turn the engine on again. It stays calm all night and most of the next day, although there are clouds building out to sea. Alan sleeps most of the day. We are doing OK with 4 hour watches as long as we follow the schedule but when one of us does not sleep when we should it gets all messed up. Mostly I try to get Alan to sleep as much as possible during the day, since I need to have him available if anything goes wrong at night.
The last night, after 2 days of no wind, suddenly the storm hits. Big clouds have been building all day. Suddenly there is lightening all around, really close. There is not much I can do except to keep going and try not to tough anything metal. We have heard stories of lightening strikes frying all the electronics on boats. when I get a chance, I stash the iPad and the spot in the oven. They say that will protect them. Then the rain starts. There is no cover on the cockpit, it is just wide open. Luckily the engine is running and the autopilot is working so I take refuge just inside the hatch where I can keep an eye on things but get a little protection from the rain. This is our first rain storm and I discover that most of my “waterproof” jackets aren’t. I have packed away all of the warm gear into plastic bags in the back of the closet. Alan is still sleeping through all of this and by the time it is time for his watch the rain has stopped. I manage to dig out a jacket for him and stumble off to bed. No sooner has he gotten a cup of coffee and settled down than the rain starts in again. I feel bad but it is his turn and I am exhausted.
When I get up again, the rain has let up but there is still a lot of lightning. He has the radar on and has been using it to try to steer around the storms. He gives me the course heading and heads off to sleep. Unfortunately there is no way to distinguish between rain and land on the radar and we are getting close to shore. I follow the course for a while but it seems like we are getting way too close to those lights so I decide to turn and head out to sea. It will be daylight soon and we will be able to see the harbor entrance. If we are too far out when it gets light we can always head back. Meanwhile we are headed more or less in the right direction and Alan is getting some sleep.
Gradually the lightning stops and the sky brightens and I can see our surroundings. Yes we are close to the shore and there are a number of large islands around. There is some morning fog but by the time Alan is up it has cleared and we sail into the harbor at Zihuatenago and drop anchor. We have completed a 4 day passage and survived our first lightening storm.
7:00, sun going down, high tide, slowly creeping across the lagoon. 1.5 fathoms where we are anchored. The anchor comes up covered with black mud. Alan has put waypoints into the GPS from our cruising guide but the guide is 3 years old and sand bars shift. Slowly, slowly we head out. Depth gauge reads less than 1 fathom. We creep along knowing there are only inches of water under the keel. Then the bump as it hits. Reverse, reverse we are off. Now which way to turn. Check the GPS. Creep along. Less than 1 fathom. Past the point where we stuck on the way in. Little by little the depth increases. I never thought that 1.5 fathoms would seem like a lot of water. In the channel now and out of the breakwater into the ocean.
It is just sunset and there is a good wind. We are heading south to Zihuatenajo, about 200 miles south. It all goes well it will be a 3-4 day sail. Once we are out we raise the sails and set the course. The patch where it was torn looks good. I whip up dinner. I have actually become quite good at cooking underway. The galley is so small that it is easy to brace myself in and we only ever use the same 1 or 2 pans. Not much fancy cooking but it keeps us going. After dinner I’m off to bed.
Midnight, my turn to sail. Sometime while I was sleeping Alan has turned on the motor. There is a slight wind but it is coming from dead ahead. The main concern is that we are in the shipping lanes. According to AIS, there are large cargo ships all around us. I never see most of them. Dodge a few.
The wind comes up towards dawn and blows a steady 7-8 knots all day. We run the water maker.and take turns sleeping. Wind dies about dusk and we turn the engine on again. The sea is glassy calm. During my watch late at night when I am very sleepy, I suddenly hear loud breathing right next to the boat. Scary, until I figure out that It is dolphins swimming along beside us. The wind has gotten really light and shifts. I actually manage to tack twice without waking Alan. The third time the wind shifts, I get the sails all confused and in irons. I finally turn on the engine to get us out of it. Darn. But I am starting to get it.
The next day the wind has died to almost nothing. It is hot and still. We strip and take turns dumping buckets of cool sea water over each other. Drifting along. We try various sail combinations and eventually turn the engine on again. It stays calm all night and most of the next day, although there are clouds building out to sea. Alan sleeps most of the day. We are doing OK with 4 hour watches as long as we follow the schedule but when one of us does not sleep when we should it gets all messed up. Mostly I try to get Alan to sleep as much as possible during the day, since I need to have him available if anything goes wrong at night.
The last night, after 2 days of no wind, suddenly the storm hits. Big clouds have been building all day. Suddenly there is lightening all around, really close. There is not much I can do except to keep going and try not to tough anything metal. We have heard stories of lightening strikes frying all the electronics on boats. when I get a chance, I stash the iPad and the spot in the oven. They say that will protect them. Then the rain starts. There is no cover on the cockpit, it is just wide open. Luckily the engine is running and the autopilot is working so I take refuge just inside the hatch where I can keep an eye on things but get a little protection from the rain. This is our first rain storm and I discover that most of my “waterproof” jackets aren’t. I have packed away all of the warm gear into plastic bags in the back of the closet. Alan is still sleeping through all of this and by the time it is time for his watch the rain has stopped. I manage to dig out a jacket for him and stumble off to bed. No sooner has he gotten a cup of coffee and settled down than the rain starts in again. I feel bad but it is his turn and I am exhausted.
When I get up again, the rain has let up but there is still a lot of lightning. He has the radar on and has been using it to try to steer around the storms. He gives me the course heading and heads off to sleep. Unfortunately there is no way to distinguish between rain and land on the radar and we are getting close to shore. I follow the course for a while but it seems like we are getting way too close to those lights so I decide to turn and head out to sea. It will be daylight soon and we will be able to see the harbor entrance. If we are too far out when it gets light we can always head back. Meanwhile we are headed more or less in the right direction and Alan is getting some sleep.
Gradually the lightning stops and the sky brightens and I can see our surroundings. Yes we are close to the shore and there are a number of large islands around. There is some morning fog but by the time Alan is up it has cleared and we sail into the harbor at Zihuatenago and drop anchor. We have completed a 4 day passage and survived our first lightening storm.
Friday, June 14, 2013
May 15-18, 2013, Manzanillo to Barra de Navidad
We set out from Manzanillo about 1:00 in the morning and arrived at the entrance to Barra de Navidad lagoon just before sunrise. As soon as it was light we headed for the entrance. The charts show this as a very narrow entrance with, of all things, an underwater breakwater followed by a long channel leading to a wide, shallow lagoon. Shallow is the operative word here. After our experience getting stuck in San Blas, I am very nervous about shallow places. I took up my traditional place by the depth gauge and called off the soundings to Alan as he steered us into the lagoon. We navigated successfully into the entrance and up the channel past the hotels. Gradually an enormous lagoon spread out before us, with a few boats anchored out in the middle. How on earth were we supposed to know where to go? There were no channel markers of any sort. Following the charts as best he could, Alan set off across the lagoon. The water was extremely shallow, just over one fathom, even though we had timed our entrance for high tide. Little by little we crept along. Then the depth dropped to under a fathom. Any minute now we were going to be stuck. Still we crept along. Maybe we will make it. It must be deeper right over there where all of the boats are anchored. And then we hit bottom, very gently but firmly. Alan tried reverse and we came free but we stuck again a few minutes later. Where the heck is the channel? Several more tries gave the same results. At least we are in a wide open lagoon with not much traffic, just a few pongas over by the shore. I finally got on the radio and put out a call for help. We were answered almost immediately by several boats and shortly a dingy showed up to help. After some discussion about what to do, we gave him our hand held depth gauge. He held it over the side of his dingy and found a channel for us. With repeated backing and forthing of the engine, Alan managed to wiggle us loose and we followed our guide over to the anchorage. We had only been off by a few feet but it made all the difference. Even here the depth was barely 2 fathoms and this was high tide. It was just time for the morning radio net and of course we were the main topic of conversation. It is a very friendly group of 8-10 boats, most of whom seem to have been here for a long time.
Barra de Navidad. The Hotel Sands welcomes cruisers. Tie up to the crumbling cement wall and climb ashore. Ahead is a lush garden path leading to the bar. A circular palm roofed structure with a long haired, tattooed bartender from Southern California stands ready to serve drinks and dispense helpful advice. Seated on the stools around the bar are a cast of characters straight out of Hemingway. Only noon and already so drunk that when we meet again the next day they don’t remember us. Just beyond the bar is the pool, blue tile, rust stained and chipped. Water warmed by the sun. Geckos hang upside down from the ceiling of the restaurant.
The town itself is charming; small shops selling sandals, sunglasses and swimsuits, restaurants, hotels, markets. A middle class Mexican resort town. Very few Americans. On our second night we join other cruisers for a performance at the Drunken Doughnut. One of our fellow cruisers makes money as a fire eater. His performance is surprisingly captivating. The highlight is flaming poi balls, adapted from a Maori folk art. The lights are dim and the balls of fire are on the end of long ropes which he spins in a mesmerizing series of twists and curls. The fire leaves light shadows behind. I am reminded of the Olympic ribbon gymnastics but more haunting.
First order of business this morning is to contact the sailmaker and make arrangements to get our sail to him. We agreed to meet him at the dingy dock in town in about an hour and set about taking the main sail off and packing it into the dingy. We also took an extra piece of tanbark fabric so the patch will match the sail. After hitting ground twice in the dingy on the way into town (I said is was shallow here), we finally tied up at a crumbling cement wall and climbed ashore. We load the sail into his rusty old toyota and after the 25 cent tour of the town arrive at his home/office on the outskirts. For the next couple of hours we watch and help as he stitches and patches and talks about the old days. He had worked for various sail making companies in San Francisco, coming to Mexico on vacation. Like so many others, he just finally stopped going back. He married a young Mexican woman and stayed here, doing occasional sail mending jobs and generally living the good life.
One more adventure before we go. The next morning’s radio net included a plea for someone who spoke Spanish. Since no one else answered, I offered to do what I could. Shortly a dingy showed up beside us. Stepping aboard, I was quickly delivered to one of the long term boats in the bay. On board was a young mexican man huddled in a blanket, He had apparently ben found swimming in the water in the middle of the night. Hauled aboard, he refused to talk to anyone. The going theory was that he was running, either from drug dealers or immigration. The owner of the boat was a single woman and while she felt sorry for him, she also wanted him off of her boat. My Spanish was, in fact, better that any one else’s but I still could not get anything out of him except that he was “practicando.” Eventually I gave up. He assured me that it was safe for him to go ashore and one of the other sailors fired up his dingy and took him off to the shore. I heard later that they went straight to the bar and after several beers he said that his brother had been shot by drug dealers and he was hiding. Not sure I believe it. There was some kind of scam going on and a lot of beer involved.
They say this is a safe harbor in hurricane season. It would be easy to stay here and spend our days in the bar but Alan is eager to head south so we are heading out on the evening tide. The next stop is Zihuatenago, about a 4 day sail south.
We set out from Manzanillo about 1:00 in the morning and arrived at the entrance to Barra de Navidad lagoon just before sunrise. As soon as it was light we headed for the entrance. The charts show this as a very narrow entrance with, of all things, an underwater breakwater followed by a long channel leading to a wide, shallow lagoon. Shallow is the operative word here. After our experience getting stuck in San Blas, I am very nervous about shallow places. I took up my traditional place by the depth gauge and called off the soundings to Alan as he steered us into the lagoon. We navigated successfully into the entrance and up the channel past the hotels. Gradually an enormous lagoon spread out before us, with a few boats anchored out in the middle. How on earth were we supposed to know where to go? There were no channel markers of any sort. Following the charts as best he could, Alan set off across the lagoon. The water was extremely shallow, just over one fathom, even though we had timed our entrance for high tide. Little by little we crept along. Then the depth dropped to under a fathom. Any minute now we were going to be stuck. Still we crept along. Maybe we will make it. It must be deeper right over there where all of the boats are anchored. And then we hit bottom, very gently but firmly. Alan tried reverse and we came free but we stuck again a few minutes later. Where the heck is the channel? Several more tries gave the same results. At least we are in a wide open lagoon with not much traffic, just a few pongas over by the shore. I finally got on the radio and put out a call for help. We were answered almost immediately by several boats and shortly a dingy showed up to help. After some discussion about what to do, we gave him our hand held depth gauge. He held it over the side of his dingy and found a channel for us. With repeated backing and forthing of the engine, Alan managed to wiggle us loose and we followed our guide over to the anchorage. We had only been off by a few feet but it made all the difference. Even here the depth was barely 2 fathoms and this was high tide. It was just time for the morning radio net and of course we were the main topic of conversation. It is a very friendly group of 8-10 boats, most of whom seem to have been here for a long time.
Barra de Navidad. The Hotel Sands welcomes cruisers. Tie up to the crumbling cement wall and climb ashore. Ahead is a lush garden path leading to the bar. A circular palm roofed structure with a long haired, tattooed bartender from Southern California stands ready to serve drinks and dispense helpful advice. Seated on the stools around the bar are a cast of characters straight out of Hemingway. Only noon and already so drunk that when we meet again the next day they don’t remember us. Just beyond the bar is the pool, blue tile, rust stained and chipped. Water warmed by the sun. Geckos hang upside down from the ceiling of the restaurant.
The town itself is charming; small shops selling sandals, sunglasses and swimsuits, restaurants, hotels, markets. A middle class Mexican resort town. Very few Americans. On our second night we join other cruisers for a performance at the Drunken Doughnut. One of our fellow cruisers makes money as a fire eater. His performance is surprisingly captivating. The highlight is flaming poi balls, adapted from a Maori folk art. The lights are dim and the balls of fire are on the end of long ropes which he spins in a mesmerizing series of twists and curls. The fire leaves light shadows behind. I am reminded of the Olympic ribbon gymnastics but more haunting.
First order of business this morning is to contact the sailmaker and make arrangements to get our sail to him. We agreed to meet him at the dingy dock in town in about an hour and set about taking the main sail off and packing it into the dingy. We also took an extra piece of tanbark fabric so the patch will match the sail. After hitting ground twice in the dingy on the way into town (I said is was shallow here), we finally tied up at a crumbling cement wall and climbed ashore. We load the sail into his rusty old toyota and after the 25 cent tour of the town arrive at his home/office on the outskirts. For the next couple of hours we watch and help as he stitches and patches and talks about the old days. He had worked for various sail making companies in San Francisco, coming to Mexico on vacation. Like so many others, he just finally stopped going back. He married a young Mexican woman and stayed here, doing occasional sail mending jobs and generally living the good life.
One more adventure before we go. The next morning’s radio net included a plea for someone who spoke Spanish. Since no one else answered, I offered to do what I could. Shortly a dingy showed up beside us. Stepping aboard, I was quickly delivered to one of the long term boats in the bay. On board was a young mexican man huddled in a blanket, He had apparently ben found swimming in the water in the middle of the night. Hauled aboard, he refused to talk to anyone. The going theory was that he was running, either from drug dealers or immigration. The owner of the boat was a single woman and while she felt sorry for him, she also wanted him off of her boat. My Spanish was, in fact, better that any one else’s but I still could not get anything out of him except that he was “practicando.” Eventually I gave up. He assured me that it was safe for him to go ashore and one of the other sailors fired up his dingy and took him off to the shore. I heard later that they went straight to the bar and after several beers he said that his brother had been shot by drug dealers and he was hiding. Not sure I believe it. There was some kind of scam going on and a lot of beer involved.
They say this is a safe harbor in hurricane season. It would be easy to stay here and spend our days in the bar but Alan is eager to head south so we are heading out on the evening tide. The next stop is Zihuatenago, about a 4 day sail south.
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